


light up for me

by TasteOfHoney



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Gentle Sex, One Shot, Post-Volume 6 (RWBY), Smut, but the softest mildest smut, with far too many metaphors sadfkdsjhfsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19230154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TasteOfHoney/pseuds/TasteOfHoney
Summary: “I want to feel what it’s like,” she breathes. “I want to see your soul, Yang.”





	light up for me

**Author's Note:**

> had the urge to write a tender first time for the bees so i went ahead and did it bc i have no impulse control
> 
> anyway they're soulmates and you can't change my mind

“What does it feel like?” Blake asks, curiosity burning like the leftover adrenaline from the fight they were just in. They’ve made it back to their room in the Atlesian inn that’s become their temporary home now, but she can still feel her skin tingling, every sense hyper alert.

Yang glances at her with a confused expression. “What does what feel like?”

“Your Semblance. When you use it.”

“It feels like— like I’m invincible. Like I can do anything. I know that’s not true, but it’s… it’s a _rush_. It feels good.”

There’s a pause as Blake contemplates the answer, and she can sense the question Yang’s about to ask even before her partner opens her mouth.

“What does yours feel like?”

“Cold. Dark. It’s funny, I use it to make more of me, but it makes me feel more alone than ever.” The weight of what she’s just admitted fills the space of the room. “I’m glad yours isn’t like that.”

“Back at Mountain Glenn, you said your clones feel like an empty copy, a way for you to run—”

“Yang, I don’t—”

“No, Blake, listen to me. To me, your Semblance doesn’t feel like cowardice, it feels like bravery. It protects you, and the people you care about.” Yang’s voice shakes ever so slightly, growing smaller as she finishes with, “It saved my life.”

“I— I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Well, maybe you could try? For me?”

Blake simply looks at her for a long moment, and then she nods, a smile brightening her features, small but genuine. “Okay. I can try.”

“That’s all I’ll ever ask.”

The heightened awareness from the aftermath of combat, the unexpected emotion of the conversation, the tension that’s been building between them ever since a waterfall in Argus— all of it tangles together in the space of a few seconds, and neither of them are sure who moves first, but Yang stumbles back against the wall as Blake’s hands fist around the lapels of her jacket, their mouths meeting in a show of pure desperation.

Neither of them are surprised— this has been inevitable since _I’ll save you a dance_ , since _starting with her_ , since _we’re protecting each other_. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when. And it’s a matter of now.

She pulls back, gazing into Yang’s eyes as they both process that this is _happening_. At last, it’s actually happening.

“I want to feel what it’s like,” she breathes. “I want to see your soul, Yang.”

Yang kisses her again, slow and full of longing, like she can’t stand to spend another second apart from her, and it would be answer enough, but then she’s imprinting words onto Blake’s lips.

“I’ll show it to you. I’ll show you anything you want. _Do_ anything you want.”

Blake melts into her, utterly unable to stop touching her now that she knows that she can—that she’s allowed—and the buckle of Yang’s belt surrenders so easily to her need. Her partner’s hands glide over her shoulders, taking her coat with them, and when the black leather falls so does the last of her restraint.

The intention of it—the deliberateness with which they are choosing to bare themselves to each other completely—turns her on like nothing else ever has, and then there’s only a blur of fumbling hands and shaking breaths until the rest of their clothes are pooling at their feet. The world seems to slow as she realises that Yang is the only person to have seen her totally naked, not just in body but in soul. To see all of her—to see everything and accept and love her even so—and for the first time in nearly ten years Blake feels young and almost unburdened by worry.

She’s shaking as Yang takes her in her arms, but when she sees concern start to dim her partner’s expression all she can do is reach up to touch her face, feather light like she’s something that can’t really be there, and then kiss her urgently, pleadingly, as she understands that this is real. She holds Yang closer, a moan catching in her throat at the warmth of her partner’s bare skin against her own.

“Bed,” she says, hoping the one word will be enough because she isn’t sure if her clouded mind can form any others.

Yang hooks one arm behind her knees, the other looping around her shoulders, and then Blake is being lifted into the air. Yang carries her the few steps to the mattress, an unnecessary but so very welcome display of affection, and lets her down onto it with more gentleness than she would have ever dared to hope for. Yang follows her, hovers over her, lifting a hand to brush Blake’s hair away from her face with infinite tenderness.

“ _Blake…_ ”

From Yang, even her name alone has meaning— the sound of absolute trust, of hope, of _love_. When one syllable can encapsulate all of that, there’s no need for any more words. Instead their foreheads press together in a promise that’s becoming more and more familiar to Blake with each passing day—a promise to always be there for each other—and she can’t wait any longer. She needs to be with Yang. In every way.

She searches her partner’s eyes for the reassurance that the feeling is mutual, and what she finds is so vast that she can hardly begin to comprehend it. It isn’t a conscious decision, to open herself up so entirely, to recreate what Jaune had described at Beacon, voice sewn through with awe and wonder, but their souls join in the same instant as their bodies, Yang slipping inside of her as their auras intertwine.

It’s exactly what she thought it would be, and also not in any way what she thought it would be.

It’s just so much _more_.

Yang is warmth, comfort, safety, devotion, and Blake can feel her _everywhere_. Her own darkness is suffused with light, the two of them separate but forever connected, and she knows that she couldn’t crave this intimacy with anyone but Yang. No one else would fit— they both have jagged edges sharp enough to cut, but with each other even the broken pieces match, forming something so much stronger.

Yang’s fingers start to move, touching places within her that she thought long dead, and she can feel her partner’s Semblance—her _soul_ —like the rhythm of her own heart, a cadence known only to the two of them pounding in her ears. She knew Yang was powerful, but now that the fire within her partner is something tangible that she can share, she can’t help thinking how much strength it must require to keep that much energy contained, and a wave of admiration fills her chest.

It’s something inexorable building deep in the core of who Yang is—her very essence—and Blake can sense the echo of it curling around her, burning brighter as they fall deeper into pleasure, Blake’s knee between Yang’s thighs a spike of heat, Yang’s fingers curling wonderfully inside her a lazier but no less enticing lick of flame. She can’t begin to fathom how Yang embraces it without losing herself, let alone how she lives with it every waking moment without getting burned, but she can feel the rush that Yang spoke of earlier, a sweet intoxication thrumming beneath her skin, making her weightless, and she’s soaring, _falling_ —

“You’re beautiful.” It’s all she can think of to say— the simplest truth of what she feels. Yang is beautiful. In every way. She could see it before, she knew it before, but now she’s seen it for herself, known the reality instead of the fantasy she held in her mind, and it’s just _so much_.

“So are you.” She can feel that Yang believes it, but her own doubt must be clear because then her partner slows her pace, taking her time, every movement and every kiss a balm against the insecurities that have taken root so deep Blake doesn’t know if she can ever be free of them.

“I know you don’t see it, but I do. Your courage, your resolve, your purpose— I wish I was more like you. Please— please tell me you can feel how much I adore you.”

“Of course I can.”

Even if she couldn’t feel it, she would know it. It’s held in every word Yang says to her, every time she touches her, every time she looks at her. It has been for a long time. Blake simply wasn’t ready to accept it, couldn’t take something she felt down to her bones that she didn’t deserve. But here, now, maybe—just maybe—she thinks she might be able to let Yang give her everything.

And so she lets herself fall and break apart, not just trusting but _knowing_ that Yang will catch her— will hold her together until she’s strong enough to do it herself. She catches Yang’s mouth clumsily with her own, needing the connection as release comes for her, and she doesn’t feel small. She feels big. Important. Like she matters.

As the bond between their auras finally breaks, she expects to feel loss, but there isn’t any. Yang was already a part of her from the moment Blake started to fall in love; she doesn’t need to see either of their souls to know that. She does feel closer to Yang, though, and more certain than ever in her choice of partner, if that’s even possible.

“Do you believe in destiny?”

Yang kisses her again before she answers, briefly, like it’s for no greater reason than because she can— because she wants to.

“I’m not sure. But I do know that I’m really grateful you chose me.”

“And I’m really grateful you dragged your sister over to interrupt my reading because you thought I was hot.” Yang turns bright red, but doesn’t even deny it, and Blake decides to take pity on her. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is— I don’t think it was fate, but maybe we ended up here because it makes sense. Maybe we took the path we did because it was the right one.”

“Well, any path that leads me to you has to be the right one.”

Yang says it too lightly to be entirely serious, but with far too much weight to just be a joke, but then she leans in and presses one last kiss to Blake’s cheek and the tension is gone as they both laugh, finally feeling simply like the two teenagers in love that they are.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all know the drill by now lmao comment if u feel like it and see ya next time :P


End file.
